


Hold on (I’ll come back for you)

by isultoktok



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Tragedy, M/M, Minor Violence, lovers to strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27281092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isultoktok/pseuds/isultoktok
Summary: Steven gets caught in the middle of a robbery gone wrong. As the day goes on, everything gets weirder and weirder.
Relationships: Steven Lim/Shane Madej
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: RareBuzzShips Octoberfest 2020





	Hold on (I’ll come back for you)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the movie _Realms_ (2017). 
> 
> English is not my first language, and despite all those years spent in school I think I broke my brain with this one trying to be my own beta. Please point out any grammatical errors if you find them!

_“I have crossed oceans of time to find you.”_

― Bram Stoker: Dracula

_  
It’s okay, Steven._

_I’ll see you soon._

_Steven_

“STEVEN!”

Steven is shaken from his daydream with a jolt, empty porcelain cups rattling from his hands to the floor.

“For God’s sake, Steven! Now is not the time to doze off,” Andrew sighs, and Steven hurries towards the broom to sweep up the pieces.

“No, leave it, “ Andrew says. “That gentleman over there has been waiting for his coffee for ages now, so get to it. Just a black coffee. And apologize to him for taking so long!”

Andrew turns his attention back to the register and ever-growing line of customers waiting to be served. Steven looks where Andrew has pointed, to a man sitting at one of the tables. He’s dressed in a slim-fitting navy suit, no tie, with the top buttons of his shirt undone. Sitting with one ankle of a long, long leg thrown over his knee, the man looks like he’s relaxing, but he’s tapping his fingers on the table, and Steven hurries to prepare the coffee. On a whim, he grabs a muffin from the basket on the counter, bringing it with him to the waiting man.

“Your coffee, sir. Sorry to make you wait,” he says, placing the coffee and the muffin on the table.

“No worries, kiddo,” the man says, flashing him a quick smile. “Thanks.”

Steven turns to leave when the man calls after him.

“Hey, you. Boy with the blueberry hair.”

Steven turns around again.

“Sorry, it’s just… your hair,” the man says and Steven runs a self-conscious hand through his shock-colored strands.

“Anyway, I didn’t order a muffin,” the man continues.

“It’s on the house, for taking so long.”

“What a sweetie,” the man chuckles and Steven wills himself not to blush as he makes his way back behind the counter.

After some time, the man stands to leave. As he exits the café, he puts on a pair of sunglasses though it’s one of the rare cloudy days in LA.

Steven’s gaze follows the man through the window as a car parks on the street in front of him. Another man in a grey suit steps out of the car. He’s shorter and dark skinned, his hair slicked back, and he’s also wearing sunglasses. Together, the pair crosses the street and enters a jewelry store across the café.

 _Rich people_ , Steven thinks.

“Steven, take a break. Get some fresh air,” Andrew tells him after the mid-morning rush has subsided.

Steven nods, taking off his apron.

“Sorry, wait. Could you clear that one table outside before you go?”

“Sure,” Steven says and grabs a tray with him before heading outside.

As he’s piling the cups on the tray, a gunshot pierces the air. Steven jumps, dropping the cup he’s holding. His head whips around to the direction of the sound. Two men come running out of the jewelry store across the street, one of them crashing straight into Steven, sending rest of the cups to shatter into pieces on the ground.

“Oh. Blueberry boy,” says the Tall Man in a Suit from earlier, hastily hauling Steven upright by his arms before scampering around him towards the car parked in front of the café.

There’s a wailing sound of sirens and tires screeching as a police car pulls to a stop in the middle of the street. The shorter man curses.

“Fucking _shit_!” Shane, take this and get in the car,” he shouts, chucking a bag to the taller one who catches it and dives to the backseat of the car. The man grabs Steven who’s frozen to the spot, pulling him between the man and two officers exiting the police car. Steven feels his stomach clench in dread, his whole body shaking when he realizes there’s a gun pressed to the side of his head and _two_ guns pointed at him by the police.

As the police shout him to put his hands up, Steven makes an aborted motion, not knowing if he should do as he’s told or stay very _, very_ still. He squeezes his eyes shut, his heart hammering so loud he’s only vaguely aware the voices around him: the police officers commanding the man to drop his gun, the man holding him yelling back at the police to drop _their_ guns or he will “put a bullet through this kid’s head”. The sound of tires screeching to a halt, the traffic stopped because of the scene in the middle of street; one of the officers shouting to his radio about a civilian in danger and needing back-up.

The man starts to walk backwards to the car, pulling Steven with him.

“Watch your head,” the man says, pushing Steven to the backseat with force and slamming the door shut as he fires his gun towards the police officers. Then he jumps to the front seat, starting the car and speeding away.

Steven feels like he can’t breathe. There are more gunshots and another hand on the back of his head, pushing him down as bullets graze the back of the car.

“Keep your head down,” a voice next to him says.

After a while, the sound of bullets fades away. The hand lets go, and for a while there are no other sounds except the car running and Steven’s heavy intakes of breath as he starts to hyperventilate. He realizes he’s crying, and presses a hand over his mouth, trying to muffle any sounds from escaping.

“Hey,” the voice says softly. “You really need to breathe or you’ll pass out.”

After a few tries, his breathing starts to even out. Steven lifts his head up, trying to discreetly wipe his eyes and glasses dry before gingerly turning to look at the Tall Man sitting next of him. The man is also holding a gun, but his grip is relaxed, casually pointing it towards the floor. He looks a little out of place, cramped in the backseat of the car with those long limbs.

The man turns to talk to the driver. “What the fuck, Ryan? This was supposed to be a simple gig, how did we end up with a hostage?” 

“Shut up Shane, I panicked,” Ryan the driver says. “With those fucking cops showing up so fast, we wouldn’t have made it out otherwise. Oh right, check if he has a phone on him.”

“I don’t!” Steven says quickly.

The man called Shane takes a look at him, scanning for pockets in his clothes. “He doesn’t,” he says finally.

“What are we going to do with him?” Shane continues.

“I don’t know,” Ryan says, gripping the steering wheel with his knuckles white.

“Ryan, this is serious. There a people looking for him– ”

“I DON’T KNOW, OKAY? LET ME DRIVE,” Ryan yells and Steven flinches.

It’s silent for few minutes before Ryan speaks again.

“It takes like six hours to the Mexico border if we stick to smaller roads. I’ll think of something along the way.”

Steven closes his eyes, squeezing them hard to stop any more tears from spilling out.

No one says anything after that.

Steven spends the car ride praying silently, leaning his head against the window. At some point, Ryan has turned on the radio, thrumming his fingers against the steering wheel while he drives, no longer speeding over the limit.

 _I wonder if Andrew is looking for me,_ Steven thinks.

He dares a glance to his right. Shane has his head tilted back against the seat, eyes closed. His gun is resting on his thigh, but he’s not holding onto it. Steven glances at Shane’s face. He can’t tell if the man is sleeping or not. Steven shifts on his seat. No reaction.

Slowly, he inches his hand across the seat between them, eyes darting frantically between Shane’s face and the rearview mirror, but Ryan’s gaze stays ahead, lost in the empty stretch of road before them and whatever pop song playing on the radio.

 _I don’t know how to shoot a gun_ , Steven thinks, and then panics. _Oh God, do I_ _have to_ use _the gun?_

Less than two inches. Steven gulps, taking one last glance at Shane’s still closed eyes and then the gun. _Just grab it._

Shane’s hand shoots up, grabbing his wrist and Steven’s heart leaps into his throat. Shane opens his eyes, signaling _shh_ with a finger on his lips and glancing at Ryan through the rearview mirror. Ryan is still focused on the road, not paying any attention to what’s happening in the backseat.

Shane lets go of his hand, moving the gun out of his reach and Steven turns back to the window, sliding his hands under his thighs to make them stop shaking.

_Please God, I want to go home._

They don’t make it to Mexico.

At some point, Steven dozes off, and is waken by Ryan cursing and slamming his hand against the dashboard. They have pulled over to the side of the road.

Ryan and Shane both get out of the car, and Steven cranes his neck to look through the windshield. There is smoke rising up from the hood of the car.

Both men are talking heatedly. He doesn’t hear what they’re saying, but it looks like an argument that results in Ryan slamming the hood of the car down and kicking the front tire.

Shane walks around the car and opens the door.

“Get out, we’re taking a walk,” he says, grabbing the bag from the floor.

Slowly, Steven gets out of the car. The sky has turned darker, with grey storm clouds gathering above their heads.

“Let’s go. There’s a house we passed a few miles ago, we’re going to check that out,” Shane says.

“Please, let me go. I promise I won’t say anything to anyone, I’ll forget this whole thing even happened, just let me go,” Steven pleads.

Ryan scoffs. “We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere with who knows how many miles to the nearest town. Don’t be stupid.”

“It’s fine,” Steven says. “I’ll be fine. You will never hear from me again, I swear.“

“Shut up and _start walking_ ,” Ryan snarls, his fingers flexing against the handle of his gun.

“ _Ryan_ ,” Shane says sharply. “Look, there’s a storm coming. Let’s just go to the house and at least wait for it to pass,” he says to Steven.

Dejected, Steven resigns himself to his fate, slowly following behind the other two.

“That’s not a house, it’s a fucking mansion,” Ryan says when they reach the driveway leading to the house.

At the end of the driveway stands a grand old house, looming over them. Vines climb all over the exterior, hiding almost the entire house beneath them. As they walk closer, they see boarded up windows peeking from underneath the vines.

“I’m not sure if anyone’s home,” Shane says, gesturing to the windows.

At the same, the thunder rumbles ominously behind them, and the first raindrops catch them as they reach the front door.

“Whatever dude, let’s see if we can get inside,” Ryan says.

With a little push, the door gives way. As they step in, Steven thinks he can smell smoke. Then, it’s gone.

They come into a wide entrance hall. There is a winding staircase leading upstairs, and on opposite sides of the hall are arched doorways, leading into other rooms. The interior looks old and untouched, every piece of furniture dusty and all the colors faded, like left in direct sunlight for years. It’s clear no one has stepped a foot inside of these rooms for ages.

Suddenly, Steven hears faint music, like a band playing somewhere far away. It’s a beautiful, catchy melody. Curious, he walks across the hall, following the sound. The music leads him through several rooms, deeper inside the house until he comes to a stop in front of large double doors. The music is coming from behind them.

Steven pushes one of the doors open. It opens to a ballroom with high windows reaching up to the ceiling. The room is empty, void of any furniture. And Andrew is there, in a suit.

“Andrew?” Steven gasps. Andrew looks up and starts walking towards him. He’s holding two champagne flutes in his hands.

“What’s going on, what are you–“

Steven is startled by a sound of voices behind him. As he glances over his shoulder, the music stops abruptly. When he turns back, Andrew is gone.

Shocked, Steven stumbles out of the room. Ryan and Shane stand in the hallway, Shane holding a bottle of whiskey.

“You look like you saw a ghost,” Ryan says.

“Didn’t you hear that?” Steven asks, turning back to the ballroom. There is no one there. An unpleasant chill runs down his spine.

“Hear what?”

“The music…” Steven trails off. Shane rolls his eyes.

“Great, now _both of you_ think this place is haunted,” he says, exasperated.

“Shut up, long legs. It’s two against one,” Ryan says, walking away. “Come on, let’s check what’s upstairs.”

“Ghosts don’t exist,” Shane shouts after him. Ryan gives him the finger.

The stairs leading up to the second floor are steep. Ryan goes first, then Shane, with Steven trailing behind them, feeling uneasy after the mention of ghosts and what he saw. He has barely set a foot on the first step before there’s an ominous creak, the first and final warning before the banister gives way under Ryan’s hand, and he falls off the side of the stairs with a scream.

There is a sickening _snap,_ and then Ryan screams harder. His left leg is twisted in unnatural angle, bone sticking out from the skin. Steven winces, turning his head away from the gruesome sight.

“Shit.” Shane hurries down the stairs. Steven presses himself against the wall, trying to stay out of the way.

Ryan curses, his eyes welling up with tears as Shane helps him up from the floor, half carrying, half dragging him to a sofa across the room and carefully propping his leg up on a coffee table. Ryan is breathing hard, his screams turned into little whimpers of pain as Shane talks to him with low and calm voice, telling him to breathe. Shane screws open the whiskey bottle.

“Here,” he says, helping Ryan lift the bottle to his lips. Ryan takes a hearty swig before thrusting the bottle back to Shane, wiping his mouth.

“Hey, blueberry boy. Want some?” Shane asks, holding up the bottle to Steven.

Steven shakes his head. Shane shrugs, taking a swig himself before turning back to Ryan.

Steven glances behind him. The front the door is slightly ajar.

His mind racing, he tries to calculate the distance between him and the door. He takes a tentative step backwards.

Step after step, he inches quietly towards the door. When he’s sure Shane’s attention is fully on Ryan, he makes a run for it, slipping out of the door. Before the door slams shut, he hears Shane cursing behind him.

It’s raining so hard he barely sees in front of him. He hears Shane shouting after him, telling him to wait. He remembers that Shane has a gun and stops dead in his tracks.

The rain stops suddenly, and Steven finds himself in front of a row of stables. Horses peek their heads out of their stalls, looking at Steven curiously.

There are two voices coming from somewhere behind the building. One of them sounds furious.

“Without me, you and your delinquent friend would be lying in a gutter somewhere. I was the only one in this town willing to give a chance to petty criminals like you, and this is how you pay me back for my kindness. I’ve seen how you look at my son.”

“Sir, I don’t–“

There is a sharp sound, like someone getting slapped.

“You’re here to take care of the horses, Madej. Remember that and stay away from my son.”

Steven’s eyes widen in shock as Shane comes around the corner, wiping blood from his mouth. He’s wearing different clothes, dressed in a worn shirt and jeans. He looks disheveled, totally different than his sleek outfit from earlier.

When he sees Steven, he hurries his steps, grapping Steven’s shoulders to steer him away from the stables.

“Go back. Your dad is not in a very good mood right now,” he says.

“My dad?” Steven repeats, stunned. “What’s going on? What happened to your clothes?”

He doesn’t know what Shane says next. He can see Shane’s mouth moving but can’t hear the words.

He realizes it’s raining again, and Shane is standing in front of him in his blue suit.

“Are you okay?” Shane asks.

Steven blinks. “Wha– what just happened?”

“You tell me. You just stopped and spaced out.”

“Where did the– How did you–“ Steven starts, then looks around him.

They are on the driveway. There are no buildings in sight except the house behind them. Nothing else.

Shane looks at him, frowning. “I think we should get back inside. I’m drenched and so are you.”

When they get back to the house, Ryan is not there. His gun and the bottle of whiskey are still on the table.

“What the fuck,” Shane says to himself. “He couldn’t have walked away.“

“What if… what if he didn’t walk by himself?” Steven says nervously.

Shane contemplates the words.

“Let’s check the other rooms,” he says finally, taking off his suit jacket, soaked from the rain and throwing it over the back of the sofa.

“Can I wait here?” Steven asks. He’s cold and hungry and the house is starting to creep him out.

“And wait for whoever took Ryan to come back? What if they have a gun?”

“I– can I have Ryan’s gun?”

Shane takes the mentioned gun, holding it up for Steven to take. “Do you know how to use it?”

Steven hesitates, then shakes his head.

“That’s what I thought.” Shane cocks his gun, pockets Ryan’s and gestures Steven to follow him. “Stay behind me.”

They go upstairs, checking the rooms one by one. Most of the rooms are empty, with barely any furniture, except a bedroom at the very end of the corridor.

“Ryan?” Shane calls out, stepping into the room.

As Shane goes to check a closet, Steven walks towards the bed. Everything in the room is the same as the rest of the house, old and faded, but there is no dust anywhere, as if someone had just cleaned before they came in.

“Weird,” he mutters to himself.

He sits on the bed, running a hand along the sheets. The room goes dark.

He realizes he’s _in_ the bed, under the covers. The only light comes from a lone lamp on the bedside table, the rest of the room hidden in shadows.

 _I’m either dreaming or losing it_ , he thinks, sitting up.

There is a creak from somewhere in the corner and Steven jumps, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

“H–hello?” he calls out with a trembling voice, fighting the urge to pull the covers over his head and hide like a child.

The door opens slowly.

“Hey.”

It’s Shane, in the same shirt and jeans as outside earlier. “Did I scare you?”

 _What the hell going on_ , Steven wants to say.

“Did anyone see you?” is what he hears himself asking instead.

“Of course not.”

Shane comes to sit on the bed. Steven’s hand moves on its own accord, brushing his fingers against a bruise on Shane’s jaw.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

Shane grimaces, catching Steven’s hand in his. “I’m fine. Your dad has a mean swing though.”

They are quiet for a moment, Shane playing with Steven’s fingers.

“You know,” Shane says. “We could leave, just the two of us.”

“And go where?”

Shane shrugs. “Anywhere. I have family back in Illinois, they would love you.”

It’s strange. More than strange, it’s eerie how Steven has no idea what’s happening, but it seems that his body does; like following a script, it knows what to do and what to say. It lets Shane push him gently down on the bed, looming over him.

“Run away with me,” Shane whispers, trailing his fingers down Steven’s cheek as he leans down.

Steven’s breath hitches. _Is he going to–_

“Okay,” Steven hears himself whisper back.

A happy grin lights up Shane’s face. “Promise?”

Shane’s hand finds its way under the covers and Steven’s clothes, fingers burning against his skin.

“Yes,” Steven gasps against Shane’s lips and Shane swallows the word with his mouth.

Steven jumps up, pulling his hand away as if he’s been burned. The room is back to how it was, and he and Shane are both standing next to the bed.

“What is wrong with you?” Shane asks.

Steven ducks his head, hiding his reddening face. “I… I saw something.” He wonders if Shane saw it too.

“You sound like Ryan.”

“I’ve been seeing things ever since we got here. They’re like …visions.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” Shane asks, incredulous.

“Listen, I’m not making this up! It’s like this house is trying to tell me something.”

“Tell you what?”

“I don’t know!” Steven cries. “What happened to people who lived here, maybe.”

Something falls down from the nightstand next to the bed, drifting to Steven’s feet and he bends to pick it up. It’s an old, yellowed page torn from a newspaper.

 _Fire at Lim Manor,_ reads the headline at the top of the page, the date of paper under it.

There is a black and white picture of the house, the very same house where they are standing in the bedroom, and another one of a family of five; parents on one side, an adolescent girl sitting in the middle, and behind her stand two young men, with their hands on their sister’s shoulders.

Steven gasps as he sees himself, with dark hair and without glasses, but it’s definitely him, standing behind the girl in the picture.

He looks at the top of the page. The date is from nearly hundred years ago.

“What the hell?” he whispers to himself, gripping the page so hard it wrinkles.

“Steven.”

Hearing Shane say his name, Steven’s head whips up. Shane is standing right next to him, looking at the page in his hand. Shane brushes a finger gently over the Steven in the photograph.

“How much do you remember?” he asks.

“ _What?_ ”

“From earlier.”

“Um, we were at the café, with Andrew, and then you came in, and– ”

“No, before that. How did you get to the café?”

“I… I don’t know,” Steven says tentatively, his brow furrowing in confusion. He tries to think back and realizes he has no idea. “I don’t remember.”

“Do you remember me?”

Steven’s eyes widen in surprise. Everything starts to go blurry.

_Steven leans against the wall, looking at the ballroom full of people in their finest dresses and suits. Andrew appears next to him, holding two glasses of champagne._

_“You don’t look like you’re having much fun,” he observes, handing one glass to Steven._

_“I feel a little out of place,” Steven says, taking a sip and glancing out of the window. Andrew follows his gaze._

_“Do you want to get out of here?” he asks._

_Steven drains the rest of his glass. “You know I do.”_

_They stumble out to the veranda, laughing and shushing each other. On the way, Andrew has snagged a bottle of wine from the table, trying to get Steven to hide it under his suit jacket. Shane and Ryan are there, leaning against the balustrade in their work clothes._

_“Why, young master Lim, sneaking out of your own party?” Shane asks, his tone teasing._

_“Don’t call me that,” Steven says. “We thought that you boys might want some wine.” He holds up the bottle to Shane._

_“What a sweetie,” Shane says, taking a swig and passing the bottle to Ryan._

_They sit on the steps leading down to the garden, laughing and passing the bottle between them until it’s gone. Steven keeps sneaking glances at Shane, smiling shyly as the other catches him looking._

_Finally, he feels Shane’s fingers graze against the back of his hand and a small shiver runs through him._

_“I just remembered that I have something to show you,” Shane says._

_“Oh?” Steven tries to hide his grin._

_“Somewhere not here.”_

_Andrew and Ryan share a knowing look._

_Shane wraps a hand around Steven’s wrist, pulling him up and leading him down the stairs._

_“Behave yourselves,” Andrew hollers after them as they disappear to the garden._

_“Don’t let his dad see you!” Ryan shouts._

_As soon as they are out of sight, Shane pulls Steven’s body flush against his. Steven’s arms circle Shane’s neck, clinging on as Shane hungrily claims his lips with his own._

_Steven wakes up in the middle of the night. The air smells like smoke._

_Quickly, he throws a robe over his nightclothes, making his way downstairs. The smell of smoke grows stronger._

_When he steps outside, Shane is there, tacking up two horses._

_“Oh, there you are! I was just about to come get you,” Shane says, sounding relieved. Then he notices how Steven is barefoot and frowns. “You have to go get dressed, there’s not much time.”_

_Ryan comes running from inside, a bag thrown over his shoulder. “I got the silverware, but we have to go like, right now.”_

_“Alright, never mind. We’ll get you some clothes on the way,” Shane says to Steven, taking his hand and pulling him towards one of the horses. Ryan is already mounting his._

_“What is going on? Is there are fire?” Steven asks, confused. “Shane, did you start the fire?”_

_“What? No!”_

_“Shane.”_

_“I– it was an accident. Come, we have to go,” Shane pleads, urging Steven to move._

_Steven stops, hesitating, and Shane grips his hand tighter._

_“You promised, Steven. You promised to come with me,” Shane says **,** sounding desperate. _

_“STEVEN? TIFFANY?”_

_Steven hears his mother’s voice, hysterical as she tells someone she can’t find Steven or his little sister. His blood runs cold._

_“Shane, I’m sorry,” he says, pulling away from Shane’s hold. “I have to go find my sister.”_

_“No, Steven, wait– Steven!”_

_He hears Shane shouting after him as he runs back inside the house._

_He makes his way through the rooms, shouting his sister’s name. Smoke fills his nose and mouth, making him cough violently._

_When he reaches the living room, the room is swallowed by a sea of flames, climbing higher and higher along the walls and curtains._

_There’s a loud cracking sound._

_He hears multiple voices shouting outside. Then there is a sound of a gunshot, a horse neighing wildly and more shouting. “We got them!”_

_He thinks about how Shane doesn’t have a gun._

_Another loud crack comes from above him. He looks up, and the last thing he sees is a ceiling beam falling down before everything goes black._

When he opens his eyes, he’s back in the present. The room around them has transformed into charred ruins, with ash covering the floor and the walls blackened and burnt.

“I… I died in the fire,” Steven says quietly.

“I know,” Shane says.

“Am I a ghost?”

“No,” Shane says softly. “You’re a memory.”

He pulls Steven against his chest, and for the first time today Steven feels like he knows what’s happening and lets himself relax in Shane’s familiar embrace.

 _I have done this before_.

Suddenly Shane slumps forward, collapsing against him. Trying to hold him up, Steven runs his hands up Shane’s back, touching something wet and warm. He gasps as his hand comes back bloody from the bullet wound in Shane’s back.

Night falls outside, enfolding the room in darkness.

Steven sits on the floor with Shane’s head resting in his lap. Shane reaches up, fingers brushing a few silent tears away from Steven’s cheek.

“It’s okay, Steven. I’ll see you soon,” he says.

Steven closes his eyes as Shane’s voice fades away.

When he opens them again, he’s at the café. The bell on the door dings as a tall man in a suit walks in.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://isultoktok.tumblr.com)


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